


A Simple Misunderstanding

by SparkBeat



Series: Commissions [5]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Brainstorm means well, Misunderstanding, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6268978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkBeat/pseuds/SparkBeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: Brainstorm meant well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a commission by the wonderful [Apocalypse-on-legs](www.apocalypse-on-legs.tumblr.com), thank you so much! 
> 
> Thank you [Iopele](www.iopele.tumblr.com) for proofreading for me!
> 
> Commission information can be found [here](http://the-sparkbeat.tumblr.com/post/139583432468/price-list-ficlet-100-500-words-1000) if you are interested. Thank you!

Brainstorm watched his labmate carefully.

 

Something was off.

 

He just...wasn’t sure what.

 

Perceptor leaned over his workbench, focusing intently on whatever brilliant--but not as brilliant as Brainstorm, naturally--discovery he was working on, but something was just _off_.

 

It wasn’t until he watched the scientist-turned-sniper toss a piece of scrap metal into the refuse bin, and _miss_ , that he decided to start poking around.

 

“So…”

 

“Silence. Remember our rules.”

 

 _Your rules, you fussy, brilliant mech…_ Brainstorm thought, rolling his optics. Out loud, he just hummed.

 

Silence reigned again. But only for a few moments. He could see how Percy slumped against the bench in resignation and frustration when he spoke again, but that didn’t stop him. Had it _ever_ stopped him?

 

“So…”

 

“ _So?_ ” Ooooh, he sounded _testy_ now. Brainstorm was starting up his favorite, most dangerous game. ‘Push the sniper’.

 

“So...it’s great, isn’t it? Drift and Ratchet being back?”

 

 _Ooooooh, there we go_ , he thought wickedly, smirking behind his mask when the other mech tensed, eyeing him from the corner of his optic and pushing as much _warning_ into his field as possible.

 

“I...suppose it is.” He finally admitted, and didn’t he just sound so _irritated_ to have to admit Brainstorm was right? About _anything_. If he wasn’t so sure of his own self worth, he’d be _hurt_.

 

“Yea… Ratchet just does a much more thorough job, doesn’t he? Putting us back together after lab accidents, I mean.”

 

“I wouldn’t know...I don’t make it a habit of blowing myself up. That’s reserved for you and Wheeljack.”

 

 _Ouch_.

 

He turned back to his work with a frown, realizing he’d touched on a sore subject. So caught up in his own inner monologue about how brilliant he was, too brilliant to be sniped by a fussy lab mate for poking too far into something he wasn’t welcome in, he _almost_ missed what the other mech said next.

 

 _Almost._ Perceptor may have had enhanced vision, but Brainstorm made it his business to have enhanced audials. (So much easier to realize a gun is going to backfire when you can _hear_ the internals scraping or seizing. He couldn’t _count_ how many times that little skill had saved his skid plate.)  


“...should tell him...who gets a second chance at this, after all?”

 

That was...interesting. Brainstorm pondered over what that could mean as he soldered a circuit board into place on his latest invention.

 

A second chance...a second chance at _what_ , exactly? He assumed it was said in conjunction with his comment about the dream team coming back, and the common element there was _Drift_ . Percy was a Wrecker. Drift had been a Wrecker. It was widely known that they had been close at one point, though rumors about _how_ close varied from mech to mech in the retelling.

 

Oh... _oh!_ Not for the first time nor the last in his function, he was grateful for his blast mask, which hid his gleeful little grin from the lab at large.

 

Perceptor _liked_ the swordsmech! Admittedly, he was easy on the eyes, although there didn’t seem to be too much in the way of processor power upstairs...but to each their own, he supposed.

 

Now, the question became, what to do, what to do? Percy was such a stodgy, uptight mech. He’d _never_ actually go through with talking to Drift on his own. The mech never knew how to take a shot, unless it was with a sniper rifle in his hands, so it was only right that Brainstorm step in and... _help_ , right?

 

After all, that’s what friends were for.

 

~~~~~

 

Surprisingly, it took a fair few days for an opportunity to put his (brilliant) plan into motion. For nearly a week after his initial discovery, Drift was always unavailable. Between speaking with Rodimus and Ultra Magnus, at length, in privacy, and the seemingly unending party that was Swerve’s, Brainstorm was unable to separate Drift from the rest of the crew.

 

He also kept a close optic on Perceptor, to make sure the other mech didn’t make a move in the meantime that would let him call off his plans. Of course, the sniper stayed true to form, and while he didn’t _avoid_ Drift, he also didn’t go out of his way to interact with the mech. In fact, it seemed he spent much of his time hiding in the medbay with Ratchet, which was the one place the swordsmech seemed to never be.

 

It was frustrating.

 

Scratch that, it was downright _embarrassing_.

 

When people thought of scientists, they thought of shy, unassuming, _meek_ mechs, and Perceptor was _feeding into that stereotype!_

 

(He steadfastly refused to think of Quark. Quark was different. Quark was quietly brilliant, that was all. He didn’t _need_ to be outgoing. Wait. Delete that thought, it’ll only hurt…)

 

Suffice it to say, when he finally got Drift alone in one of the maintenance corridors, it was a huge rush of relief that coursed through his spark.

 

Why did _everyone_ look at him like he was a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off? Just because he _built_ explosives, that didn’t mean he _was one_. That was _Whirl!_ But there was that look, that cautious tone, as Drift shifted his weight between his feet, looking like he was half ready to take a runner while he plastered on that fake spectralist smile. “Brainstorm?”

 

“Perceptor wanted me to find you, says he’s got something in the lab he wants to show you.” He tried his best to look bored, like he couldn’t believe that Perceptor had had the _nerve_ to send the ship’s genius on such a simple _errand_. Inside was a different story altogether, and he was trying his best to not let his mirth and self satisfaction at a ruse well-constructed leak into his field.

 

“Did he say what it was?” Now Drift sounded curious, and the shifting had stopped in favor of leaning in close, like they had their own little secret between the two of them.

 

Hook. Line. Sinker.

 

He lifted one shoulder in a halfsparked shrug, and shook his helm. Lifting his hands, palms up, in a ‘don’t ask me’ gesture, he gave a cynical little chuckle.

 

“Must be important for him to send _me_ to find you, but he didn’t think it important enough to _share_. Guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

 

Drift shrugged and set off down the hall towards the labs, and Brainstorm hurried to catch up.

 

Phase one, complete. So far, so good.

 

~~~~~

 

Brainstorm hesitated when they reached the lab doors just a few short minutes later, and Drift turned to give him a strange look.

 

“Aren’t you coming?”

 

“Nope. If he wants to talk to you, I’ll keep clear. Just wanted to make sure you actually came here and didn’t get distracted!” Drift frowned, but he plowed ahead, waving a hand and stepping back as if to head back down the corridor. “Comm me when all’s said and done, lab’s yours until then!”

 

If Drift thought that was odd, he didn’t say so. Smiling and nodding, he turned back to the lab doors, and entered his code. Brainstorm strolled down the hall till he heard the door slide shut behind Drift, and hurried back to the observation window.

 

Perceptor was a stickler for forbidding recording devices near his equipment. But he _never_ thought to check Brainstorm’s side. A little hiss of feedback, and the bug he’d planted near his own workstation (to catch thieves, of course, trying to steal his inventions. _Whirl…_ ) came to life in his audial feed with a crackle.

 

“Ah, Drift!” He heard Perceptor say, almost as clearly as if he was standing next to him. Oh he was _good_. Making a note to pat himself on the back later for yet another brilliant invention, he tuned back into the feed to hear Perceptor ask why Drift was there, confusion evident in his tone.

 

“Brainstorm...he said you wanted to talk to me?” Oooooh now Drift sounded confused too. And...maybe a little irked. Not good. Hopefully they confessed their undying brothers-in-arms, shoot to kill, battlefield crossed love for one another soon, so he wouldn’t come after Brainstorm for his little white lie.

 

Perceptor sighed, an audible whoosh of recycled air through his vents, and Brainstorm could imagine the _frustration/resignation_ in his field combined with that unique sensation that was saved just for Brainstorm and his ‘antics’.

 

“I fear he’s sent you on a wild goose chase, Drift. I have no need for you at this time, no.”

 

 _Slag it! Perceptor, you coward, just_ say _something already!_ Brainstorm thought, running through the options left to him that _didn’t_ end with an irate ex-con hunting him down in the corridors and possibly doing very cruel things to him in a shadowy corner where the security cameras wouldn’t see. Not only did he _not_ want to end up a grease stain on the floor somewhere, but he also didn’t want Perceptor to coward out, and wait till it was too late to say how he felt…( _Don’t think about Quark, don’t think about Quark, don’tthinkaboutQuarkdon’tthinkaboutQuarkdon’tthinkaboutQuark)_

 

In a bit of a panic, not that he’d ever admit anything he did wasn’t calculated to the last detail, he set off the contamination procedures for the lab.

 

Overriding the klaxons before they could alert the whole ship and possibly cause a panic, he watched as the exits and ventilation shafts were sealed off. Peering in the observation window, he flinched back when Drift and Percy both spun around to catch sight of him, and Drift lunged, slamming a palm against the plasglass, snarling at him.

 

“BRAINSTORM!” He winced, the sheer _volume_ of Drift’s voice in his audial overwhelming. “LET US OUT!”

 

He tapped the intercom button, leaning in to speak into the little microphone set into the wall below the observation glass.

 

“Percy, tell Drift how you feel, and I’ll be happy to let you both out.”

 

“Oh...I’ll _tell Drift how I feel_.” Perceptor snarled, slamming his measuring equipment down on his table and stalking to the window next to Drift. Brainstorm shuddered, and it was only in small part due to how tedious recalibrating that instrument was going to be later. How could the mech make such a statement seem so... _threatening_?  


“Ahh… about how much you care about him?” He hazarded, trying for a charming smile and remembering at the last moment that his blast mask hid it from view. Not that they needed to see his mouth, of course. Perceptor was fluent in his optic emojis, after all.

 

But it didn’t seem to faze the Wrecker, this time. He was pacing at the window, and when Brainstorm spoke, he froze. In slow motion, he tilted his helm till their optics were locked, and the eerily calm look on his face froze Brainstorm’s energon to ice in his lines. Perceptor was _furious_ , and he couldn’t figure out _why_ ? This was giving him the _perfect_ opportunity! Now he was forced into a corner, and he had no excuses left to back out with. The worst Drift could say was _no_ …

 

“What. Are. You. Talking. About.” The sniper bit out every word from behind clenched teeth, and each word made his fuel pump stall momentarily.

 

His optics widened, and he backed away from the window till he crashed into the wall on the opposite side of the hall. He couldn’t have been wrong...could he?

 

A second chance.

 

Drift and Ratchet returning to the Lost Light.

 

Perceptor _must_ have been talking about Drift.

 

It was the only thing that made _sense._

 

But Percy looked _so angry_ . But...not embarrassed-and-trapped angry. Just….just genuinely _angry_.

 

“Brainstorm, you have exactly three seconds to release these overrides before I comm Ultra Magnus and have you thrown back into the brig. One…” He was already halfway down the hall, remotely triggering the release for the lab doors as he rounded a corner and made a break for the service elevator at the end of the hall.

 

~~~~~

 

Brainstorm hid in the darkest corner of the oil reservoir, audials and optics on their highest settings to try and warn him of snipers and swordsmechs in the dark. Make no mistake, he wasn’t an _idiot_ . He knew he’d have to pay for his miscalculation. ( _Misunderstanding, more like._ ) He just wanted to drag out his last moments as a whole, complete mech for as long as he could.

 

Some might say he was overreacting. Others, like Rung, would suggest he seek out the parties he wronged, and apologize.

 

They’d all be wrong.

 

He knew Perceptor, _knew_ that calm exterior hid some impressive rage, and that, when provoked, the sniper exacted surprisingly creative payback.

 

Now, Drift? Drift was an unknown quantity. He just didn’t have enough information to make a judgement on that mech, and that honestly scared him worse than Perceptor did. The speedster was fast, and _quiet_ . And he was so...so falsely _happy_ , all the time! Who _knew_ was was hidden underneath that cheery facade?

 

… what if it was Deadlock?

 

Soft _tap tap taps_ , he could have mistaken them for audial ghostings with how loud they were turned up. But he knew better, and pressed his back flat against the wall as he could while he tried desperately to pinpoint the source of the noise. His hands shook, and his spark pounded in his chest, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to face his punishment like a mech, or shut his optics off and hope that what he couldn’t see couldn’t hurt him.

 

( _Childish thoughts, no room for such pathetic nonsense in an MTO…)_

 

A hand touched his shoulder, and he nearly leapt out of his plating. He _certainly_ didn’t shriek. That high pitched noise echoing in the reservoir _wasn’t_ him.

 

“Easy…” Drift. It was Drift, and Brainstorm felt his knees go weak, his legs suddenly felt lifeless and cold, and not at all like they could support him anymore. Perceptor let the unknown come after him, he was _dead_. He’d picked his own gravesite, that’s all he’d accomplished.

 

“Woah! Brainstorm, _calm down_ . You’re safe, ok? C’mon, online your optics, look at me. Check my field. I’m _not going to hurt you_.” Drift’s voice came through broken up as his audials screeched with feedback, and it took three replays to understand what he’d said.

 

Cautiously onlining one optic, he saw the bright mech framed by the dark shadows, but he didn’t have Decepticon red optics and bared fangs, claws, swords, guns, ready to tear him to shreds.

 

He was the same old Drift, minus the swords that usually rested at his hips and between his shoulders. His free palm, the one not still slowly, soothingly stroking Brainstorm’s shoulder, was held up, palm out, in a copy of his own earlier gesture, to show he was unarmed. The field brushing carefully up against his own was purposefully light and calm, without a hint of anger or malicious intent.

 

Brainstorm still felt queasy, and now that he wasn’t looking death in the optic, he let himself slump to the floor and sagged forward to put his helm between his knees. The hand on his shoulder shifted to press against the back of his neck as his optics blurred and blackened at the edges.

 

After a few long, tense moments, he let out a shaky exvent and pressed back against Drift’s hand until the mech let go, and straightened up to look up at him.

 

Drift didn’t make him crane his neck for long, dropping down into a loose, lazy crouch in front of him so they were once more on something resembling optic level with one another.

 

“You ok? You looked like you were about to black out there for a minute…”

 

“I’m...I’m ok. Why aren’t you…”

 

“Pissed off? Beating the slag out of you?” Drift frowned and shook his helm when Brainstorm nodded, cringing back at the mere _mention_ of physical violence. “Because, Brainstorm...I think I know why you did it. And it was sweet of you to try and help Percy out. It was...poorly thought out, but it was a nice gesture. Percy’s still pretty peeved, by the way. You might avoid the lab for a few days, let him cool down?”

 

Brainstorm nodded numbly, and let his helm thunk back against the wall.

 

“I...I thought I’d gotten it _right_. What went _wrong?_ ” He came damn close to whining, but Drift just chuckled, reaching out to clasp his shoulder again.

 

“You locked him in with the _wrong mech_ , ‘Storm.” The chuckle turned into an outright giggle then, at the look on Brainstorm’s face.

 

“What do you _mean, wrong mech?!_ ” His voice definitely pitched on the last words this time, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

 

“Next time you wanna try a stunt like that?” Drift leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in his audial, “Lock him up with _Ratchet_.”

 

Drift rose to his feet and retreated back towards the entrance of the reservoir, his laugh echoing in the cavernous space. Brainstorm sat, stunned, long after he left, in absolute shock.

 

_Ratchet?_

 

When he finally shook himself out of his stupor, he made a beeline for Ultra Magnus’ office.

 

He was signing up for rivet duty on the far side of the ship. It was the only way he was going to be far enough away to avoid Perceptor until the other mech cooled off.

 

~~~~~

 

Drift flopped down onto the berth between Ratchet and Perceptor, vents racing, and threw one arm over his forehelm.

 

Ratchet poked at his cheek, but Drift couldn’t hide his wide grin as they lay in the dim lighting of his habsuite, listening to plating ping as it cooled and feeling the way their fields meshed in lazy satisfaction. There was just no way for him to stifle his contentment at the way things had turned out.

 

“You know...when Brainstorm decides to come back aboard, you should really thank him, the both of you.” Drift said to the ceiling, chuckling when his suggestion was met with twin pillows to the face.

 

“I’m serious, though. He’s terrified he’s going to be maimed when he sees you, Perce...cut him some slack? It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

 

Percy growled, and rolled over to straddle his thighs. Leaning in till their lips were just barely brushing as he spoke, he vented heavily against Drift’s plating.

 

“Less talk about Brainstorm. He’s busy riveting for the next three cycles. I’ve got something _much_ more urgent to deal with, right here.” Perceptor punctuated his statement with slow, sinuous roll of his hips, sliding his valve along Drift’s slowly repressurizing spike.

 

“Well...I suppose I should..erm...deal with the matters at hand, first, yea?” Drift groaned, clutching at Perceptor’s hips. Ratchet’s hand returned to his cheek, stroking heated plating, and he rolled his helm to the side to capture two fingers between his lips to suckle and tease with his glossa.

 

He supposed Percy was right. Brainstorm _was_ preoccupied for the next few cycles. And he _did_ have other things he could tend to in the meantime, right?

 

He made a mental note to have Ultra Magnus call Brainstorm back in, in the morning, and that was the last coherent thought in his processor for quite some time, as Ratchet pushed himself up onto his free hand and pressed his lips to Perceptor’s in a heated kiss that drove all other thoughts completely free of his immediate memory cache.

 

Brainstorm could wait a few more hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Commission information can be found [here](http://the-sparkbeat.tumblr.com/post/139583432468/price-list-ficlet-100-500-words-1000) if you are interested. Thank you!


End file.
